Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
“Okay.” Elle grabbed her purse and stepped into her shoes. “Call me if you want to talk.”
“Uh-huh.” The door clicked behind her and I set the alarm once I heard her car start.
Good thing I had the foresight to take the cookies with me, because I couldn’t sleep. My mind was going a mile a minute. And around three in the morning I found myself back in Hale’s dressing room, reading over the entire contract.
I wanted to call Remington, but Hale was his son. He needed to take Hale’s side.
I scoffed. This was probably Remington’s idea. He was well-versed in gold diggers and betrayal. Somehow, I was dumb enough to think Hale and I were above that toxicity, but I guess I was wrong.
The next two days were spent working on wedding things. No matter what I found hidden in Hale’s closet, I still wanted to marry him. But now more than ever I felt like I had something massive to prove.
And, if I somehow failed at this marriage, which was a pretty probable possibility being that not a lot of my big plans had panned out, the fallout would destroy me. Davenports had a habit of always coming out on top and I never wanted to be in an oppositional position to one, especially Hale. He could be so cold and cunning when his survival instincts kicked in. Could he be that way with me? I’d personally watched him pay people off and move on with nothing more than cold indifference. The thought of him treating me indifferently was my worst nightmare.
As much as I loved him, I knew he had a vicious side when pushed too far. I never wanted him to react to me the way he reacted to the mention of Jasmine or the other people who betrayed him. I just wanted him to love me.
I finally fell asleep around dawn, but those pesky fears lingered. Now I needed to decide if I should play dumb or confront Hale. Both options left me with a shitty feeling.
Don’t Forget to Floss
Hale’s flight came in the morning of the photo shoot. His luggage had been delayed, so he told me to head over to the studio and start without him. How the hell was I supposed to take an engagement photo without a fiancé?
I packed our clothes and had Alphonse drive me there so that I could ride home with Hale. The closer it came to facing him the more conflicted I became. I wished I never saw that contract, but I had.
Maybe I was making too big of a deal about the prenup. Hale had a lot of money and I had none. It was just good sense to protect his assets. He’d been burned before. But I never betrayed him and it hurt to think that he needed that sort of insurance on our love.
Once I arrived at the studio, I was surprised to see television cameras and private dressing rooms. This was a lot more involved than anything I’d envisioned.
A man with a clipboard led me to a dressing room incorrectly labeled Mrs. Davenport. I was still Rayne Meyers.
As soon as I stepped inside, I was on sensory overload. An enormous bouquet of purple roses sat on the vanity beside a basket of artisan chocolates, a card stuffed deep within the blooms.
“Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. Sincerely, The Dailey Crew.” That sounded cold and impersonal.
“Knock, knock.” A beautiful brunette came into the dressing room. “You must be Rayne. I’m Symone, your makeup artist.”
“Oh. Hi.” I hadn’t realized I’d have someone doing my makeup, but that was fine because I must have done such a pitiful job that Symone hadn’t realized my makeup was done.
As soon as I was seated, she began washing my face and applying some sort of cold mask she claimed was packed with vitamin C. “So,” she said, once my face was wrapped like Hannibal Lector’s. “What’s he like?”
“Who?”
Symone laughed. “Hale Davenport, your fiancé.”
Sexy, territorial, distrustful, endowed… “He’s private, sort of reserved.”
“Mmm, the strong silent type.” She rubbed lotion into my hands and massaged my fingers. “Are we married to this nail polish? If you want, I can take it off and put on a fresh color.”
I had just painted my nails that morning. “Sure.”
“How about his brother? I used to have such a crush on him. That one underwear ad he did on the beach in black and white—good Lord, I had some filthy thoughts that day. That man was the source of many sexual fantasies.”
“Yup. All the ladies love Barrett.”
“Is he nice?”
Protectiveness knifed through me. The Davenports weren’t godlike to me. They were people. Family. And I didn’t like gossiping about them. “They’re all pretty wonderful.”
When the hairstylist, Jenna, arrived, the attention was off of me for a while as the two women chattered about people I didn’t know, people I suspected they worked with regularly.